Sam still had memories from that terrible night as a child. He remembered how dark it was when they found him and his hands - no matter how many blankets were on him, and how cold they felt when they escaped them - flailing with every flash of lightning that lit his room.

A freezing piece of cloth pressed against his forehead and he hesitated to gasp, but it came out raspy, his ribs aching from using his lungs sharply.

"C-Cliff…" Sam's young voice was quiet, shaky and weak. "She's… not coming… back… She's… not…" Then, the memory of his cousin flashed through Sam's mind. "Lily!"

Sam sat up immediately, now as his fully adult self and suddenly feeling as well as he usually did. He heard a thud and looked over to the foot of his bed, only to find the body of his uncle on the ground, bleeding from his chest. The young man gasped, falling onto his knees and trying to wake him up.

"Sam…" He then heard the voice of Lily. Quickly, Sam rose to his feet, hoping to get her help. His heart was pounding, his hands were shaking and now he was covered in blood. He wasn't sure why, having barely touched anything bloody on his uncle's body.

Archie blocked his way as he made it into the living room, but he could see Lily on the other side of the room, staring blankly. He opened his mouth and suddenly repeated the same thing.

"She's not coming back..."

Sam tried his best to push past him, but with one shove, Sam was pushed onto the floor. He opened his eyes. Archie was gone, and so was Lily. He faced a gun, and the shape of that man he still sought.

BANG!

Sam jolted awake with a gasp. His back was still against the tree and the journal he was sketching in was in his lap. John was sitting nearby, staring ahead with his binoculars. He set them down, and saw that Sam was awake.

"You were stirring a bit," said John. "You alright."

Sam still shook, fingers trembling to put away his pen and journal. "Y-Yeah." He looked up and saw that it was nightfall. "It was just a dream."

"Anyway. This time should be perfect."

The two looked on towards an oil and tar factory that wasn't too far from the town of Valentine. Sam had spent the last two afternoons sketching near the place, and getting a layout. John thought that wouldn't be necessary, but Sam wanted to be extra careful. The factory was owned by Leviticus Cornwall, after all.

John had a plan for that train robbery, which involved getting a train to stop, and Sam made the mistake of knowing of an oil refinery near his hometown and admitting to the outlaw.

"This is a Cornwall factory…" Sam said.

John scoffed. "And?"

"So, seeing the burnt town of Limpany didn't set off any alarms for you? He's a very powerful man, John. He could have us arrested, or killed! Or both!"

"Listen, I've been under that threat for as long as I can remember. Hell, I was almost hanged once. If you're gonna stay with us, you best get used to it. If you ask me, Cornwall is just another man hiding behind men and money. Nothing new to me." Sam held back a yelp when John pulled on the back of his shirt collar and yanked him forward. "Now, get out there, and put on a show."

Sam sighed. He shrugged and trudged down the grass. He set property on fire from Cornwall in Valentine. The bulk of the security was more focused indoors and around the main building. He waltzed right through one of the opened gateways, and saw one of the oil wagons with a guard leaning against it. It was the middle of the night, so he wasn't shocked at all that the guard was kind of half asleep. He didn't even seem to notice Sam standing nearby, next to a light.

Sam sucked in a breath and forced his sluggish limbs to life.

Show time…

The guard awoke with a start, suddenly seeing that a young man had snatched his worker hat.

"Hey!"

"Take that, hatless!" Sam taunted. The guard, angered, followed him.

"Get back here, or you're kneeless!"

Sam was laughing, giggling like a small child. Once he made it outside of the perimeter however, he stopped. He heard the click of the man's repeater.

"Okay, geez!" Sam then said. He turned towards the guard, both hands up, slightly, with one hand twirling the hat on one of his fingers. "I was just messing around."

The young man threw it back at him, but he made a straight shot to the guard's face. He stepped back, disoriented, and before he could take the hat off his face, John snuck up from behind and knocked him out, whacking the back end of his rifle on the guard's head.

Other men came outside soon enough upon hearing the commotion. They heard horses, and saw a shape in the distance that looked like a wagon. They ran towards it but then there was a gunshot and a row of fire blocked their way forward. There was the distinct smell of moonshine and tar in the air as the ground burned.

The two men were laughing as they drove into the wilderness. Their horses who were hidden in the trees came out and eventually caught up with them and followed them to their rendezvous. They left the cart at the secret place north of a place called Dewberry Creek. It was just past the border of New Hanover that went into Lemoyne. It was the furthest other than West Elizabeth that Sam had ever been away from home.

John decided that he would alternate between himself and some of the others guarding the oil wagon. Since the robbery was John's idea, he volunteered himself first and sent Sam to inform the others who were in on the robbery. If they weren't out, they were most likely back at camp.

It was pretty late by the time Sam made it back to Horseshoe Overlook. Bill, Susan, and Lenny were up for guarding the camp at night. Apparently, Sam was trusted enough to guard the camp, too, so soon Dutch would have him to watch the camp on some days, which Sam wouldn't mind.

Arthur had been away from the camp for the past few days. At first, Sam was a little worried, but it was apparently a regular thing. He always came back with something.

But was it also routine that he would come back exhausted?

Sam was at the table. It was late, and it was usually the time he would go to sleep, but he just couldn't bear to do it. It had been three days and Lily still hadn't come home. All he had done up until tonight was pick herbs, do some camp chores, and shoo the Reverend away from his tent. It had happened less as of late, but it looked like he had taken up the bottle as a substitute.

And his nightmare while they were by the Oil Fields hadn't been his first.

Soon, Sam caught Arthur by his horse, which he had named Soleil, just brushing her mane… abnormally slow.

"Heya, Arthur?" said Sam.

"Sam," he responded.

"Haven't seen you in a bit."

Arthur held back a laugh, but he smiled. "I'm a wanderer…" he said, softly.

Sam tilted his head a little. "You look tired."

The outlaw looked at him, and Sam was able to get a full look at his face. His eyes were red, he had bags under his eyes and there was a constant blink, like he was subconsciously struggling to keep his eyes open. Every so often, Sam swore he could see him leaning.

That wasn't to say Sam was much better. He hadn't been getting much sleep since he joined up with the gang, and it had gotten a bit worse with Lily gone. There were dark circles forming on his eyes, but they were faint.

"So do you," said Arthur.

"I think you should sleep," said Sam.

"I'm fine. I've got work to do."

"Been keeping busy again?" Hosea walked up on the two.

"Yes, sir," said Sam.

"No. Not you. I know you work hard. Arthur?"

"Yep," said Arthur.

"You been remembering to take care of yourself?"

"Sure."

"Been eating? Didn't see you near the pot when you returned."

"Got cans in my bag."

"How's your sleep been?"

Arthur stopped his brushing. "Fine."

"Fine? Then, why do you look like you've been hit by a train? Have you seen yourself lately?"

"Hose-"

"I don't want to hear it!" Hosea then snapped. Sam nearly jumped, but held himself back. "You're coming with me. "Come on, Sam. I could use your help."

Sam covered his mouth when he failed to stop himself from grinning. Hosea was dragging Arthur towards his tent like a child being reprimanded. The outlaw was so tired. Sleep did sound amazing right now, but he wasn't thinking straight, part of him just wanted to keep moving. Hosea forced him to sit down on his cot.

"So you haven't slept since you left camp?" said Sam. At least he sounded nicer about it.

Arthur shrugged, but he nodded.

"You know that's three days right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing!" said Hosea. "You're going to bed right now!"

Arthur didn't even realize how low his energy was until he found himself nodding forward. He was completely compliant with Sam and Hosea helping him out of his boots and putting his gun belt on the nightstand.

Once Arthur was in his union suit, he was laid back against his cot and Hosea laid a somewhat heavy blanket over him. It was spring, but the night still brought a chill. Plus, the weight did have a calming effect.

Arthur's eyes were heavy, and as he laid there, his limbs didn't even feel as such. Just weights that he found were too much to move at the moment. He closed his eyes, and boy did that feel really nice to do. He mumbled something incoherently as his head turned a little, leaning into the pillow underneath his head.

Sam pulled up a chair and sat down at his side. Subconsciously, he started rubbing the scalp of his hair with his nails. Something about seeing Arthur so tired, reminded him of how he used to comfort Lily on bad nights. His golden hair, despite being a bit greasy, was soft. It had probably been a little while since he washed his hair, but Sam didn't mind at all. He was gentle, and it seemed to relax the outlaw immediately. It wasn't long before Sam and Hosea could hear a soft snore. He was finally asleep.

Hosea sighed. "Well, thank-you, Sam."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Aw, he does this sometimes. Dutch and I just have to watch him until he starts sleeping normally again." He then looked Sam in the eyes. "You should get some sleep, yourself. I'll keep an eye on him."

The young man was hesitant. In fact, he thought the old man should sleep, but probably saw the bags under his eyes.

"Practice what you preach…" Lily would say.

Sam shrugged and stood. "Okay…" He let Hosea take his chair and he headed towards his tent. When he parted the flaps, he suddenly realized how tired he actually was. He removed his boots and gun belt, set his hat down on the table and flopped onto his cot.

The young man turned his head, saw the empty cot across from him. He sighed, and let his eyes drift shut.

"She's not coming back…"

The words haunted his dreams still.

Despite how late it was, Sam still found himself waking up early. The dreams from that night still haunted him, and with each passing day Lily stayed with Archie, his anxiety grew.

"Just a few days"? Sam thought. This was four. Wasn't that enough?

He guessed it wasn't. She hadn't come back. And with each passing day his doubts grew, as did his fears.

While Dutch was reprimanding Arthur for his unhealthy habits, Sam was doing some of the camp's chores. He finished bringing hay to the horses and then settled back into his tent. He wasn't really up for chatting with anyone, with his cousin gone. He thought it would be better once he patched things up with her, but he never felt more lonely. Maybe he did.

Suddenly, he noticed a letter on the table. He didn't remember anyone coming in from the post office today. How did it get there? However, it happened, he found that the envelope contained, not only a letter, but a map from Brandon.

Dear Sam,

My associates and I have tracked Rick Sullivan to the location said by the O'Driscoll you interrogated. On the map I've provided is where we've set up camp. We've been told to keep this on the downlow, and I intend to keep that promise. The law never hires saints to catch sinners. Bring your posse and meet me at the camp. We can go over the plan on how to assault their base and apprehend Mr. Sullivan.

From, yours truly,

Brandon Marrows

Sam put the letter down, and once again, Lily, who promised to help him avenge the man who raised them, wasn't going to be present for this. He hadn't even noticed that Abigail entered the tent, until he looked up.

"Miss Roberts…" said Sam. "Everything okay?"

"Just wanted to see how you're holding up."

Sam sighed. His eyes felt weird from lack of sleep, but the coffee he drank was helping. "I'm fine… Just… not used to Lily not being here." The woman sat down next to him.

"She'll be back, Sam," Abigail then said.

"She put you up to this, didn't she?" said Sam. "Or to soften the blow?"

"Sam-"

"She could've at least said it to my face…" Sam hissed. "Least Archie had the guts to tell me he was cutting me off, himself." He lowered his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "My cousin… of all people…"

"Now, you don't know that!" said Abigail. "I… I went through the same… feelings with John."

The young recalled Arthur ranting about how John left them for a whole year.

"You mean… when he…"

Abigail sighed irritably. She started outside, looking towards John's empty tent. He was supposed to be back while someone else went out to switch guarding the oil wagon.

"Yes…" she responded. "She's in love, Sam. You don't stand in the way of that."

"Even if you don't like what they've done?"

"Anything you do is just gonna drive her more to him. She ain't leaving you, Sam. You know that?"

"Then… how come I don't?" He blinked, trying to keep the sting of tears away. He truly doubted that she would. Abigail patted Sam on the knee.

"I… It helped to stay busy," said Abigail. "If you need anything, I'm just across the camp." And with that, she stood. "Stay strong. We're all trying."

Abigail was right about that. It didn't matter that Lily left. Just because Lily has given up, doesn't mean he would, as well.

He would see this through to the end. With or without her.

So, Sam, like he promised Dutch, gathered some of the people for the job. He needed more guns to take with to meet with Brandon, and they had to have not been seen riding with the gang as long.

Lenny was busy. Surprisingly, given how Bill acted sometimes, they were working together and planning out a job. Arthur told him that Dutch scolded Bill on his behavior. John had just made it back to camp, but he went to rest from guarding the wagon all night and sent Javier to go guard it next.

Despite how it looked, the girls were outlaws, too, but they weren't very up to the brutality of the job. Mary-Beth was a thief, like Sam, but like Sam, she tried to stay out of conflict. Tilly killed only when she needed to, but mostly saw the gang as safety, repaying Dutch for helping her by giving back to the camp. And Karen? She was already drunk.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?" said Uncle. He approached Sam's tent, while he wasn't busy. Sam had seen him around camp, but he never really did anything.

"I have an important mission. Dutch said I should speak with those interested in private," said Sam.

"You know, you've been here for a little while, and you haven't even given me a hello."

"Oh. Well, Arthur said to do my utmost to avoid you."

Uncle scoffed before walking back towards camp. "Of course he would…"

Sam wouldn't be surprised if they decided they had better things to do. He usually planned heists alone, anyway. Lily would only join in because she volunteered.

He set down his box that was full of Oleander Sage. It'd be wise to make use of it before the plants withered, anyway. The quiet brought him a sense of zen as he made some more poison.

In the middle of it, he suddenly heard a thud and a yelp from someone who he could only assume was from KIeran. He looked over at Pearson's wagon and saw him on the ground with Sean standing over him.

"Our old neighbor back in Donegal was called O'Driscoll. And we couldn't stand him neither." And with that, Sean just dropped his empty whiskey bottle near Kieran and kept walking.

The ex-O'Driscoll boy stood up and just tried to get away from what just happened. His nose and forehead hurt and he was having a nosebleed. Sam didn't look busy, but worried what would happen if he asked for help.

Worst case scenario was that Sam would just hit him again.

As soon as Sam saw Kieran approach, he tried to get back to work.

"Uh… S-Sam?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Uh… I got a bloody nose."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, that's what happens when you're just a no good..." He trailed off and rubbed his tired eyes before exhaling deeply. "Oh, forget it. I ain't in the mood. Just sit down."

Kieran breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat on one of the cots. Sam's was cluttered with notes and books, so he sat down on Lily's. His so-called "doctor" just huffed, but continued sorting his things.

Sam grabbed a rag and some water and got to work. Kieran frowned, seeing the somewhat dark circles forming around his eyes as he cleaned up the dirt and blood on his face. The O'Driscoll was given a fresh rag to catch any blood that still dripped from his nose. It was already slowing down, but Sam told him to continue to stay off his feet.

"Doesn't look broken…" Sam said as he examined Kieran's nose and placed gentle touches on his forehead. Kieran never knew he could be so gentle as a doctor just like the gentle he had as a thief, and the quiet one when it came to poison. His eyes looked just fine. "I don't think you have a concussion, but just in case, don't sleep until nightfall."

"Greenhorne!" Micah bellowed, approaching the tent. His voice went down once he was there. "Hearing you need help with shooting some bastards?"

Arthur had told him to stay away from this man, but he needed all the help he could get. If Micah was it, so be it.

"Yeah. Get ready and saddle up. Wait. Are you sure? It's in West Elizabeth."

Micah rolled his eyes. "Oh, loosen up, Hawkeson. You think some wanted poster is gonna stop me?"

"I guess not." Sam's eyes landed on Kieran. "Hey, why don't you come with us? You seem knowledgeable."

Kieran stared down and shook his head. "No. S-Sorry. I ain't much of a fighter. And if they see me with you, they'll probably kill me horribly." Suddenly he was grabbed by the back of his coat by Micah.

"Oh. Then GET OUT!" Micah yelled. He threw Kieran out of Sam's tent and he landed in the dirt. Terrified, Kieran ran off, while the outlaw just laughed at his misery.

Arthur was sketching in his tent, when he saw Kieran rushing by to get out of dodge. He lifted his head, and wandered out, closing his journal. Micah had settled down from laughing and turned back to Sam.

"So, when we heading out?" said Micah.

"Right now," said Sam. "Charles is out getting the horses ready with Sadie."

Arthur sighed. Micah was gonna get Sam killed. He stormed towards them as they headed to the hitching posts.

"Need any help?" said Arthur.

"I think we've got this, Morgan," Micah said, as Sam climbed onto his horse. "Getting O'Driscolls off Dutch's back is nothing."

Arthur scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I was asking Sam."

"Well, you said you wasn't in the revenge game," Sam said. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. "And Dutch told me to bring folk who weren't too known in the gang. If I bring you, they'll know I'm one of them."

"It's called I can wear a disguise, and I ain't in it for revenge. If anything it'll give me an excuse to get away from the camp, 'cause Dutch won't let me leave alone for a few weeks, and the less O'Driscolls bugging us, the better."

"Well. Okay," said Sam. "Saddle up, and we can go."

Sam snickered to himself, as Arthur walked away for a moment to talk it over with Dutch.

"What?" said Micah.

"He got grounded…" Sam muttered. "Like a goddamn child."

And Micah snickered, as well. Charles tried to hold back his smile and just rolled his eyes.

"Well, at least I ain't acting like one!" Sadie grumbled, as she stored a rifle on her horse. "Now, can we go already?"

It was the middle of the afternoon when they set out and the trip. Sam knew his way to West Elizabeth. Sadie was also somewhat well-travelled, and the trip didn't worry her at all. Despite the team Sam seemed to have assembled, it didn't stop the occasional stare Arthur would give Micah… not knowing that Charles was watching over all of them.

Sam was still new to all of this, but Arthur couldn't understand why he was drawn to him. He was a new gang member and they had their fair share of them come and go. Others turned out to be traitors and they were dealt with.

But ever since Sam was beaten in the middle of the street in Valentine, every time he looked into his eyes…

He could only see himself in the reflection.

Brandon's camp was in the Big Valley on the side of Mount Shaun. A path led up to a small valley where they saw a plume of smoke rising from a fire and there was an abandoned mining entrance there, but Brandon's tent was set up. Sam knew he was there because his white stallion was hitched nearby.

"This is it?" said Micah.

"Should be," Sam said. He was the first to dismount, and the others followed. Micah wasn't too sure about this and had one of his revolvers ready. "Brandon?" Sam called. "It's Sam!"

"Alright, alright!" The blonde came out from the trees with his hands out. He was wearing a blue handkerchief this time. "Keep your voice down! There could be O'Driscolls about. Whoa!" He looked around and counted Sam's group that he brought with him. "You brought a lot of people."

Sadie laughed. "When he said 'kill' and 'O'Driscoll' I was on board."

"Dutch's orders," said Micah.

Charles, silent as ever, just nodded.

Arthur sighed. "Orders…" was the only excuse he could come up with.

"Well, come on in," said Brandon. "There's someone making some goods with some of the things Rose hunted today. His name is Cripps. Don't mind him." He led everyone towards the camp, with Sam walking beside Brandon and the others following behind.

"You hunt?" said Sam.

"Of course."

"And make Moonshine?"

"Yep."

"But you also hunt bounties?"

"I do a lot of things," said Brandon. "I guess it came with the territory." They stopped once they were at the camp. Rose was helping an older looking man with things.

"I didn't think you'd be having visitors this late," said Cripps.

"They'll be staying the night," said Brandon. He gestured to the others. "Go get settled, I'll grab what I need from my tent and we'll get planning."

Once Brandon was out of ear-shot Sadie immediately went to find a seat to start making sure her gun was clean for tomorrow. Charles did the same, whittling some new arrows for his bow. Rose was finished helping out Cripps, and went to relax with a book, keeping an eye on their new guests.

"A bounty hunter, Sam?" said Arthur.

"He already said he owed a favor to someone in the gang, so his promise was not to rat any of us out," said Sam.

Micah glared. "He'd better not, greenhorne." He pushed Sam out of the way and went to set up his bedroll for the night.

Brandon eventually came out and went over the plan with the others, setting a drawing out the layout on a table with a lantern allowing everyone to see.

"The O'Driscolls are holed up in a cabin that's on an abandoned ranching property," said Brandon. "Somehow they have a gatling gun and it's on the second floor of the barn. They mostly hold up in that cabin, but at night I hear laughing and screaming."

Sadie growled and Sam just winced in disgust.

"The place has patrols almost all the time," said Brandon. "But if we don't do something, more innocents are going to suffer."

"Then why the hell don't we go right now?!" Sadie snapped.

"I was getting to that!" said Brandon. "They're expecting a delivery tomorrow. Before it gets there, one of us can slip inside with it. They'll put it in the barn and they can sneak up, take out the man on the gatling gun and disable it."

"Then we kill them?" said Sadie.

The blonde man sighed. "Yes, Miss Eager."

"Well, Charles is pretty stealthy," said Arthur.

"And so is Sam."

Arthur's brows furrowed as he made eye contact with the one who spoke. It was Micah.

"What? Come on. He led out here. Let him prove himself."

"And if he dies, he can't repay Dutch, you fool!" Arthur hissed. "You wanna make him angry?"

"Better than seeing the man looking sad all day, like he has for the past three days."

"Stop it!"

The two men looked over at Sam. He was staring daggers at them, and the bags under his eyes were making it look like he was at the end of his rope.

"I'll do it. Now, stop being loud! If you don't get it together, we'll have O'Driscolls marching up here! And we have to be quiet tomorrow. One false move, and they could kill all the prisoners! I know you're all outlaws, but even outlaws have standards on who lives or dies. At least I hope so."

"We can go together," said Charles. "A cart can fit two people."

"Yeah…" said Brandon. He could cut the tension between Arthur and Micah with a knife. "Rose and I can secure the supply cart. We have someone on the inside, wearing a red scarf around their ankle. They'll be delivering it to the property. Keep an eye out for Rick Sullivan. I have his poster here. Remember: We need him alive. A. L. I. V. E."

The wanted poster had his picture. He looked white. The description read that he was about 5'11 and in his thirties or forties. His hair was short and brown, his eyes green, and his beard was long enough to be noticeable. He had a scar running down the right side of his face, and the poster reminded everyone of Brandon's request. Rick was wanted alive.

"Right. We should rest up for tomorrow," said Brandon. "One of us should take the first watch. As my guests, we should keep each other safe."

"Guess I'll do it," said Sam. "I brought everyone here."

"No," Arthur then interjected. "Have you seen yourself? You need to rest. I'll do it."

"No, you fool," Charles spoke softly. And it was probably the first time he'd opened his mouth since he got to the camp. "I saw what happened to you. Both of you go to bed. I'll take the first watch. Sadie, you can take the next one."

The woman shrugged. "Fine with me."

Sam really didn't want to sleep, but everyone would just force him to if he didn't. It was apparent to everyone that he wasn't sleeping, or at least not sleeping well. He got his tent set up, protecting him from the cold mountain air, and laid out his bedroll.

It felt like just yesterday, he had gone to bed, with his cousin for a sister across from him, and his uncle nearby. Four walls and a roof were around him.

Now he was alone, back to the ground and the only thing keeping him from the cold were wooden posts and cloth that hung over him. He could hear the empty breeze and the crackling of the nearby fire. Shadows would occasionally appear by the flaps of his tent. He knew it was just Rose, Brandon, or that Cripps feller.

Sam didn't know how tired he was until he realized his eyes had slid shut unknowingly. He didn't fight it. He didn't move. He slept.

"You had me worried sick!"

When Sam had awakened from his fever as a child, his uncle was standing over him. He wrapped his burnt arm in a fresh roll of bandages. He was feeling better, but was still weak, and his ribs were aching something fierce. They were probably broken.

The whole time, the little had been staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Always trouble…" Cliff mumbled. He sniffled, as he let go of the boy's arm, tucking it back under the blanket.

"I'm sorry…" Sam mumbled weakly.

"Always goddamn trouble…"

Sam didn't remember this part in his memory.

"Did I really take you in for this? And now, I'm dead! And Lily's gone!"

Sam sat up, an adult once more. The house he grew up in was gone. He stood in darkness, in the wilderness. The cold of the mountain chilled him to the bone. It was so dark, the color seemed to vanish from everything, and every so often, Sam could see the yellow eyes of a wolf in the darkness, while they snarled at him.

He suddenly remembered that horrible night. He recalled some of the last words his uncle spoke.

"SAM! NO, STOP! LEAVE HIM THE HELL ALONE!"

"Yes, Sam…" said the voice of his uncle's killer. He turned, seeing his clothes, hearing his voice but still unable to to see a face. "And now, he's gone, and so is your cousin."

"I'm not giving up my family." Sam remembered Cliff said. "Dead or not."

All Sam did was blink and a gun was pressed to his forehead.

"And instead, you're still here."

There was the sound of thunder. Sam couldn't help, but scream.

"Sam! SAM!"

He felt hands on him. Suddenly, to him, it was as though Lily was within reach, but no matter how much he struggled, he was held back. He had to get to her. Surely, there was a part of her who still wanted to stay by her cousin's side.

"Come on, Sam! Wake up!"

Only she wasn't there. He opened his eyes, and found himself being shaken by Charles, who was kneeling at his side. Lily told him of his voice when angered, but he wasn't this time. Even though he was concerned for Sam at the moment, his voice was still gentle.

"Ch-Charles?" Sam spoke softly. His body still shook, tears were in the corners of his eyes.

"You were yelling," said Charles. "I think you were having a nightmare."

"Yeah…" the young man stammered. "I'm s-sorry…"

"You've been having a lot of them."

"Y-Yeah…" Sam laid back down, his face stuck in a frown, eyes tired, but refused to shut once again and he curled up on his bedroll.

"Can you tell me why?"

Sam breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down. He was a man. He was a man in a gang. He had to act like it! Once he was calm enough, however, he just shrugged.

"Sam…"

"Why do you care?!" Sam suddenly snapped. Charles winced at his tone, which made Sam shiver and soften his gaze. "I… Later… okay?"

"Alright. It's still early. You should try to rest some more."

Sam just sniffled. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have yelled. Just…"

"I know. You're tired."

"Yeah…"

Charles stayed with Sam until he calmed down enough. Once he was able to shut his eyes, the native man left Sam be.

Once he was gone, Sam opened them once more. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his eyes.

"LEAVE HIM THE HELL ALONE!"

"I'm not giving up my family. Dead or not."

Sam swallowed hard. He tried to sleep, but gave up eventually.

Cliff died because of him.

He kept the tent flaps closed, occupying himself with drawing out a layout of the cabin from memory. Once the sun had risen enough, he came out, avoiding Charles, and grabbing whatever coffee he could find to brew himself some.

Everyone was up soon enough. They ate their breakfast and then got on their horses. Sam stayed close with Brandon and they rode off towards Little Creek River, leaving Cripps to watch over their things and the camp. Every time Sam sensed eyes on him, he did everything in his power to make sure they didn't see how tired his eyes were, or how red they were.

He'd find the man who shot Cliff Hawkeson, with or without his daughter.

"Hey! Stop the wagon!"

Sitting on top of a wagon was what appeared to be an O'Driscoll. They were pulling up to the cabin.

"Got supplies for ya!" he said to the guard at the entrance of the abandoned ranch. "Food, medicine…" he chuckled. "Liquor."

The other O'Driscoll laughed. "Of course. In ya get!"

The gang members stepped out of the way as the cart cut through the messy field of crates, barrels, broken bottles and other things. There were tents up in the corner. One two floor house and a barn couldn't house everyone, anyway.

An O'Driscoll opened the barn door, and closed once the driver moved the cart inside. Once the driver knew he was alone, he hopped down, knocked twice on the wagon and slipped a piece of paper into the wagon before pulling out a cigarette. He lifted one boot that had a red handkerchief wrapped around his ankle and lit a match, using it to light his cigarette before walking out.

Charles, who was in the cart with Sam, picked up the note.

Rick Sullivan is in the cabin. Be careful. Move quietly and make sure no one gets hurt. Keep your eyes peeled for him.

And remember: He's wanted alive.

Quietly, the two piled out of the vehicle. He signaled Sam to take out the one who was in charge of the gatling gun on the second floor by pointing up. He would go and sneak his way into the cabin.

Sam was tired, but seeing how he was in enemy territory, his heart sped up. He was aware, adrenaline pumping through him. He would face death, and find this man.

His hands carefully grasped the ladder nearby and he made his way up. He gasped but covered his mouth once he was at the top. The man was leaning at the door and he sneezed. The young man held his breath, but watched as the O'Driscoll wiped his hand on his pant leg. Other than that, he remained where he was, unaware of the intruder in the building.

Sam thought about the poison. If he used it, he may cause a scene. He couldn't have that. They needed quiet. More hostages were at stake here.

He snuck up quietly, moved quickly to grab the bastard and hold his mouth shut and slit his throat. The man choked and Sam could feel the warmth of blood on his hand as he let go and the man dropped to the floor, lifeless.

Keeping his discretion, he dragged the body out of sight, looted it for valuables and then lit the lantern above the gatling gun's position, signaling the others. Sam sighed in relief as he got out of sight.

Then he heard a shout from the cabin.

Another O'Driscoll had a machete, but Charles was prepared. He never thought he'd be in a "sword" fight, but he made it quick. His strength overpowered the gang member. The swing knocked his opponent off his feet. Charles finished him, swinging his blade at his throat.

"Charles!"

He turned around, and saw Sam climbing in through the open window. He crouched down, trying to stay out of sight of anyone who may look through the window. There were other dead men in the room.

"Did you see him?" said Sam.

Charles shook his head. "Let's check the basement. Saw men and women being dragged in th-"

He paused, when the two heard a woman sobbing upstairs. They headed up, being as quiet as possible. They found a woman, her arm tied to the bed. Her face was hidden in the dirty pillow as she sobbed, her clothes almost torn apart.

Sam winced, thinking about what could've happened. Charles approached slowly, holding out his hands.

"It's okay…" he spoke softly. "You're gonna be okay." The woman stared up and winced in terror, nearly crying out, but Charles just raced in and hugged her gently. It took a few seconds, but the lady calmed down and Charles pulled away to free her hand.

Suddenly, Sam cried out, feeling himself being yanked back by his hair. He fell to the floor, his back pinned down by the bottom end of a boot.

"And what do we have here?" a deep spiteful voice stated. Sam's arms reached out, trying to grab something, but found nothing. Then he heard the click of a gun and his body fell still.

Charles looked up at the man, as he began to hear gunshots. The others were making their move. He was the target: Rick Sullivan.

"Call them off!" Rick hissed. "Now!"

"You have my friend…"

"This pipsqueak?" Sam whimpered softly, the gun reminding him of the one pointed at his head. Only now, it was real. "He ain't your friend." The young man looked around. He was trapped in Rick's iron grip. He was strong… He couldn't get up if he tried.

"This only ends one way…"

"Yeah, me blowing his brains out. You have five seconds. Five!"

He wasn't looking at Sam.

"Four!"

He was too focused on Charles.

"Three!"

Suddenly, Rick cried out, his ankle sliced by a hunting knife. He stumbled back from Sam, who was holding the bloody blade. Charles raced in and pinned the man to the floor, making him drop his gun.

"You bastard!" Rick yelled.

Sam sucked in a breath. He drew his gun and pointed it at Rick.

"You were part of the men who raided my hometown," he growled. "Who did it?! Who shot my uncle?!"

"That muddy moron town?" said Rick. "How the fuck should I know? I hire men and sometimes women. And that's about it."

Sam just yelled and stomped on the man's hand which made him scream. The noise just fueled Sam's adrenaline. "Wrong. Answer. Where's Colm?"

"Well, he ain't here. And if I knew I ain't gonna tell you."

Sam stomped on his hand again. This time he heard a snap.

"You've still got another hand," he said. "And two feet. We can keep going."

Rick was writhing in agony, wishing he could grab his broken hand. He was interrupted with a kick to the ribs.

"Sam. We need him alive," Charles said, calmly.

Sam spoke again. This time, without moving his teeth. He placed one foot on Rick's other hand, pressing, but not stepping. Yet. The gunshots outside

"Where. Is. Colm?"

"I… I don't know…" Rick said. His voice was shaky, and it filled Sam with joy. It scared him, but right now, he didn't care. He stepped, applying pressure, which made the man cry out. Charles stared up at the young man.

"Sam…" he warned.

"P-Please…" Rick pleaded. "I don't…"

Suddenly, Charles turned around. The woman had stood, a crazed look on her face. She had a knife and nearly stabbed him. Sam turned around and shot the woman in the leg. The lady screamed falling to the floor in agony. Rick took Charles being distracted and threw him off. He grabbed the fallen blade racing up towards Charles and raised the knife in the air.

"NO!" Sam screamed. He rushed ahead, but Rick pushed him back. The young man refused to give up and grabbed the man's shirt. They fell over the railing and landed on the first floor struggling against one another.

Sam groaned, struggling to get up, he grabbed the nearest bottle he saw and just threw it.

He missed.

Rick stood up slowly, seeing Sam sit up. They were both bruised and had splinters. The young man placed his back against the wall. Then his eyes snapped open when Rick yelled, running towards him.

BANG!

Charles raced down the stairs just in time to see Rick on the ground. He was still alive. A gunshot in his leg, and Sam crawled up fast enough to pin him down and press the barrel of his volcanic pistol at his attacker's head.

"You would try to stab my friend in the back?!" Sam shouted. Eyes were open, crazed in with anger.

"Sam!" Charles shouted. "Don't!"

The gunshots had died down. Charles looked outside to see the other racing towards the house. The door opened, and Brandon was first to rush in.

"Sam! Get off him!" Brandon said.

"I don't… know where Colm is…" Rick answered. "I don't..."

Micah just laughed. "Don't be an idiot, Sam. Come on. We need the money."

Sam took several deep breaths. A calloused hand was on his back, and suddenly, he could hear the people around him. Rick did not move, when Charles moved the rookie outlaw off of him. He knew he was caught, and Rose had a quite the grin when she tied him up.

"He… He tried to kill you…" said Sam.

"I know…" said Charles. "And he'll answer for it…" Arthur nodded at Charles, as he escorted him out.

The man who was helping them on the inside delivered a bounty wagon to the location. The woman who tried to stab Charles was still alive so she was arrested and thrown into the wagon with Rick Sullivan. It was covered with limited vision to the outside, so they could see Arthur or Micah.

"Well, good job, everyone," said Brandon. "I'll send the money to your gang. What was your alias again?"

"I think it was Tacitus Kilgore," said Sadie.

"Right. You were crazy out there, Mrs. Adler."

"Tch. I hope I was."

Brandon continued his debriefing, while Sam just tried to catch his breath. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the effects of today were weighing heavy. His body hurt from hitting the floor. Both times. And once again, his eyes were heavy.

And now, Sam wasn't any closer to his goal. Rick had no idea where Colm was. So, he would just have to move on to the next guy.

Without Lily.

He couldn't pay attention. He couldn't focus. Black began to creep into his vision. The ground felt like it was moving. Sam reached out his hand, hoping to find something. He found his fingers managing to grab Arthur's coat.

The outlaw felt Sam's fingers brush against his coat. Sam's world turned, and Arthur stepped forward, the others turning around to watch the young man fall. Arthur took most of the weight, with Charles stepping in to help lower Sam to the floor. His hand was still gripping his jacket, eyes still moving slightly under his closed eyelids, the dark circles now visible to everyone, with his hat having moved up from the fall.

"What hell just happened?" said Sadie.

"Is he alright?" Brandon asked, stepping forward.

"Not sure," said Arthur. "He just collapsed."

"Exhaustion," Charles answered. "He's been having trouble sleeping and refusing to do so."

Arthur sighed. "After lecturing me about it…" he grumbled.

"Okay…" said Brandon. "Rose. Would you kindly escort our prisoners to the sheriff's office in Strawberry?" Rose nodded and boarded the bounty wagon. "Micah, maybe you can go with her." He paused. "Actually, Sadie better do it. Let's get Sam back to camp. He can rest there."

MIcah laughed. "He's got spunk! Reminds me of a younger me."

Sadie rolled her eyes. "Do you ever shut up?"

Arthur tried to ignore him and just nodded at Charles who nodded back. The outlaw was careful, lifting Sam, making sure his head was leaning against his shoulder. He placed one arm beneath Sam's back, and the other under his knees and lifted him up slowly. Charles followed behind, bow in hand towards Arthur's horse. Brandon mounted his horse and waited for them to be ready.

Sam remembered when he recovered from what happened in the storm, he was still bed ridden for weeks, and it wasn't just because of his injuries. He had no desire to wander, or to eat or drink very much, not even speaking to his uncle out of shame, and didn't have the strength to address even his small cousin.

His mother was an outlaw. He knew it. Cliff knew it and even little Lily knew it. So, they couldn't even have a funeral, unless they wanted to draw the law towards them for harboring a fugitive. That didn't really help matters.

One morning, however, Cliff came in, a tray of Sam's favorite foods on it.

"Sam."

The little boy remained still on his bed, unresponsive. His chest rose up and down, his breath steady.

"Please, Sam," said Cliff. "You have to get your strength back…"

Sam just sniffled. "I'm sorry…"

Cliff placed the tray down on the nightstand. He opened the curtains, letting the rays of the sun in and sat down at his nephew's bed side. With one hand, he placed it on the boy's shoulder. Little Sam closed his eyes and let the tears stream down from his eyes.

"What matters is that you're home," said Cliff. "You're safe."

"Y-You're not… gonna kick me out?" Sam whimpered.

"Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

"B-Because…" he sniffled. "I'm not really your nephew by blood. Momma was just-"

"You are my nephew!" Cliff stated, rubbing the child's back. "Blood or not. I will protect you. Whether I owe a favor to your mother or not."

Sam sat up slowly, his muscles sore from lack of use and broken ribs still ached. Once he did, Cliff held up the pocket watch she had given him years ago. He had dropped it when the tree fell.

"And she is always with you," he said. Sam took it and slowly crawled onto his knees, so he could hug his uncle. Cliff smiled, tears in his eyes and wrapped his arms around the child as well. He made sure to be careful to not hurt his sore ribs.

Cliff would protect him.

He promised.

Sam awoke slowly, a calloused hand stroking through his dark hair, and a voice calling his name.

"Should we?" It sounded like Arthur.

"I don't want to, but he needs to eat something." That sounded like Charles.

Sam opened his eyes just a crack, and found himself laying in his bedroll, a weighted blanket on him, protecting him from the chill of the mountain air. His boots, gun belt and hat were set aside, folded in a neat pile, and he saw the roof of his tent, and heard the crackle of the campfire outside. They were back at Brandon's camp. Arthur and Charles were kneeling down, leaning over him, with Brandon standing at the entrance with a plate of stew.

Once again, Sam had awakened from the dream. Once again, he was forced to face reality.

Cliff was dead.

Lily was gone.

And he was alone.

"Think you can eat something?" Charles asked softly. "You can go back to sleep afterwards."

Sam's head just rolled to the side. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing, but they still did.

Charles sighed. He knew something had been wrong, and Lily warned him of it, as well.

"What's wrong?"

Still, despite the sleep he had all day, he was tired and his limbs were still sluggish, and the blanket and the trio of outlaws around him made his situation plain and simple: He wasn't going anywhere. And they wouldn't let him go until he spoke.

"I couldn't save him…" Sam mumbled, his voice was soft, slightly dry from the air. "I was a coward."

"Who?" said Arthur.

"My uncle…" Sam said softly. He opened his eyes and stared up at Arthur. "He was trying to keep me safe. He died… because of me." He breathed deeply, raising one of his right hand, and slowly letting it rest on his chest. "No wonder Lily left…"

"Your uncle was trying to save you," Arthur said, as Sam tried to sit up. He was still tired, the outlaw let the young man lean on him. "No matter how old you get, you're still a kid to the people who raised you."

"Like you are to Dutch and Hosea?" Sam asked. Arthur nodded, thumbing the tears from his eyes.

"She loves you Sam," said Charles. "She'll come back. And even if she doesn't, she wouldn't leave you with us if she didn't trust us. You've got nothing to worry about."

Brandon nodded. He handed the stew to Charles, before leaving to check on the rest of the camp. He held the bowl, but let Sam feed himself. Still, the young man shed tears, but at least he was eating.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, between mouthfuls. He chewed slowly, his muscles still tired and riddled with sleep.

"Just don't do it again," said Arthur. "Don't let it get as bad as it did. If you have a problem, just talk to us."

"B-But…"

"We're a gang, but not everything you read in the newspaper is true."

Sam nodded. One day, he was running from a scary man, the next, the same man was holding him in his arms trying to comfort Sam's broken heart.

"I know… At least, I know that now…" Sam finished every bite of his meal. "I just… I can't lose her…" He set the spoon down, and Charles took the bowl away. His eyes were heavy again and his body was leaning heavily on Arthur for support. "She… She's all I have…"

Arthur nodded. "I know. But you ain't alone no more."

Sam just mumbled to himself, his fingers twitched slightly.

Charles just smiled. Seeing Arthur being a kind man warmed his heart. It was the least he could do after he was in a similar state a few days ago, and Sam looked after him. They sat there in silence, until they heard Sam's breathing deepen. Once again, he was asleep. Arthur lowered the young man back down and tucked him in, blankets up to his chin.

"So," said Arthur. "How did you know about-"

"When Lily left… she asked me for a favor. She told me that her leaving would make Sam a bit depressed, and told me to watch over him."

Suddenly, his watchful eye on Sam made sense to Arthur. Well, that and he was the cousin of the woman he had befriended. He sighed. His kindness almost made him jealous.

"Alright," said Arthur. "I'll take the first watch and make sure he's-" The paused when Charles just stared, his arms crossed. "Alright. I'll go to sleep."

And with that Charles stood up, a smile still on his face. "Thank-you."

Micah had already gone to sleep, which nobody was surprised about. Sadie decided she'd keep watch, and once she went to wake Charles to tell him it was his turn, he first ran a check of the camp's perimeter, and like he promised, Arthur had gone to sleep.

Charles peeked into Sam's tent and saw that Arthur hadn't left his friend's side, falling asleep on a bed roll next to him. The native man just grinned. He raced back to Arthur's tent and then came back to tuck in the tired outlaw under a blanket, as well.

And with that, he went out on his patrol.